Episode 1 Destination Tucson
by KayDee35
Summary: Episode 1 with added scenes. Script consulted as well. Final version


**Destination Tucson**

XXX

Dedicated to Henry Darrow and Cameron Mitchell,

the two wonderful actors

who made Manolito Montoya and Buck Cannon

come to life.

XXX

After the battle the warriors gathered around their chief who stood on a hill and addressed them in a loud voice: "From this day, I, Cochise, do not want a white man alive in our territory. Let our enemies know we will avenge the death of Mangas Coloradas. Let them know we are the Apache, we are the men. And now, until the sun burns dead in the sky, we shall fight."

XXX

High Chaparral was located in the flatlands of the Arizona Territory, about half a day's ride south of Tucson. The San Pedro River wound its way through the midst of the great plain between the Santa Rita and Santa Atoscos Mountains. The river arms, which the Americans call washes and the Mexicans call arroyos, brought enough water so that the grass made excellent pastures for cattle. Therefore, the first settlers had named this fertile area Green Valley.

Buck Cannon, dressed all in black as was his habit, came out of the house. He marched to the covered wagon, singing what seemed to be his favourite song:

"Buffalo gal, are you coming out tonight,

coming out tonight, coming out tonight.

Buffalo gal, are you coming out tonight

and dance by the light of the moon?"

On his back he carried the youngest son of the rancher who had hosted them for the night on their way to their newly-acquired ranch. Buck set the boy down on the wagon seat. The child pulled his wooden rifle. "Bang, bang!"

Buck laughed and lowered him to the ground. "You run out and play, Joey." He smilingly watched the little boy run away.

Big John - a tall, powerfully built, grey-haired man with fierce, flashing eyes - brought a sack of oats and heaved it onto the wagon. The boy's father Barney Ward also came out to say goodbye to his guests. He was a red-faced, smiling man in home-spun clothes.

Big John shook the rancher's hand. "Much obliged, Mr. Ward, for the food and water. - Blue!" He called his son, who was saying goodbye to the Wards' eldest daughter.

Blue and Sarah walked hand in hand on the path that led through the bushes behind the house. "Guess we stayed away longer than we figured," Blue said, his smile vanishing at his father's call.

"Hey, where did you ever get a name like Blue?" the girl smiled at him. She was wearing a sky blue dress that went well with her blond hair and her blue eyes.

Blue lowered his head in embarrassment. "You don't want to know that."

"Yes, I do," Sarah countered. "Come on, tell me. How did you ever get a name like that?" she urged.

Blue shrugged. "Well, my ma wanted to name me Billy, and my pa wanted to name me after an old hunting dog he once had. So they named me Billy Blue," he grinned, joining Sarah in laughter.

"Blue! Blue!" Big John called again impatiently.

Blue waved. "I'm coming, Pa!" he shouted in annoyance.

The rancher's daughter took him by the arm. "Blue, would you come to visit us sometime? The Rivera place is only thirty miles." She batted her eyelashes, which made her look even more beautiful, Blue noticed.

"I guess that means we'll be neighbours," he agreed awkwardly, hoping he did not blush.

Sarah beamed. Blue took her hand again, and she accompanied him to the horse. As soon as Blue had mounted, the wagon started to moved. Blue waved to his girl. "Goodbye, Sarah. Thank you for everything."

Sarah and her five much younger siblings merrily ran after the wagon until their new neighbours had disappeared from their view.

Buck sat with Annalee, his sister-in-law, on the wagon seat. He was singing to pass the time. His brother John rode ahead, scouting the area. After a while Buck saw him galloping back to the wagon.

"Whoa there, Buck. Hold up here!" John exclaimed from afar. Buck reined in the horses. "Hold up, Blue. Big John, what's wrong?"

His brother dismounted. "There's nothing wrong. There's something up ahead I want you all to see."

"What is it?"

"Just hold on. I'll show you." John helped his wife from the wagon seat, pointing ahead. "Right here."

Buck and Blue looked at each other blankly and followed the couple. "What we stopping for?" Buck asked again.

John led them to a ridge from which they looked onto a huge plain. "There she is. The country we came over a thousand miles to see."

"Isn't it beautiful, Billy?" Annalee asked in awe, putting an arm around her son's waist since she was too small to reach his shoulders. Blue had outgrown her in the last few years.

"It sure is, Ma. It sure is," her son agreed.

Buck gazed down on the plain, seeing nothing but sand and cacti. "Well, John boy, it's a lot of land, and a lot of miles for a man to tame," he told his brother cheerfully.

Big John looked up proudly. "It's all our land now. I'll tame it," he said with a smile. "Even if it kills me."

Buck laughed. "Big John, didn't anyone ever tell you? You're too ornery to kill," he teased.

The rest of the family joined him in laughter. It died in their throats when they heard the shots. They looked around in puzzlement, trying to locate the noises.

"That's coming from the Wards, ain't it," Blue commented worriedly. He followed Buck and John to an overhang behind their wagon. Big John jerked the hat from Blue's head and handed it to him. They hugged the rock, watching the Apache warriors burn down the Ward family home.

Blue was about to jump over the rocks down to the ranch, but John held him back. "Aren't we gonna help them, Pa?" Blue asked in confusion. Nobody answered him. The two older men watched the spectacle with grim faces.

"Buck, aren't we gonna go down there and fight?" Blue urged his uncle.

"Blue," Big John ordered. "Get your mother into the rocks and take cover."

"There's women and children in that house," Blue exclaimed.

"Go, Blue. Do what your pa says. He's right," Buck told him in a deliberately calm voice. "We could do nothing down there except fill three more graves."

The youngster still hesitated. "Blue, do as I say," Big John commanded impatiently, watching the drama unfold without any apparent emotion.

Blue threw his father an angry glance before he ran as fast as he could to his mother. Buck and John remained on the overhang. When they were sure that the Apaches would not return, they ran down to the ranch. Buck stood guard while John looked for survivors. He could do nothing more than line up the dead in front of the charred ranch house. Sarah was among them. John put her gently on the ground beside the others. Suddenly Blue stood beside him. He gazed in shock at his girlfriend, threw his father an accusing glance, then turned on his heel and ran back to the wagon. John followed him wordlessly. Blue took out two spades. He handed one to Big John, then began to bury Sarah. From time to time he fiercely wiped his face. John dug graves for the others. They said a short prayer, then went back to Annalee.

While Big John and Blue stayed with her, Buck looked for a safe place to spend the night. They hid their wagon among the trees of a nearby stream and continued on foot to the campsite. Suddenly they heard crying. Annalee turned around. On a mountain pass they saw a long train of Apaches riding homewards. "They're taking the children," she whispered.

"Yes," Big John said quietly, "Apaches usually do."

"How awful." All of a sudden, Annalee became acutely aware that they had moved into an area where things were much rougher than in her hometown in Virginia. John took his wife gently by the arm and led her into the camp.

Buck had located this ideal camp site in an area too rocky for horses. They were safe here, Buck assured them. He even dared to light a fire in the evening. Had they been discovered, the Apaches would have attacked them already, Buck reasoned.

After supper, Blue withdrew from the fire, preferring to keep to himself. His father had once again shown his most callous side. Blue did not want him around when he tried to come to terms with the fact that he would never see Sarah again. After a while, Buck sat down beside him, thoughtfully gazing into the sky.

"Aw, Blue Boy, look at them stars. Pretty things. Luckier than we are. They sit up there and burn themselves out, then they die," Buck remarked quietly.

Blue looked up. "Yes. Kill and die, that's how it is out here," he answered bitterly.

"Everybody's got to die, boy, sooner or later. Even the pretty things," Buck told him gently. He looked at his nephew. "Blue Boy, sometimes a man thinks too much."

"I can't stop thinking about it, Uncle Buck," Blue sobbed. "We should have helped them. We should have done something. It was wrong."

"There was nothing we could do, Blue Boy," Buck replied firmly. "Your pa was right."

"He's always right," Blue hissed. "He was afraid, wasn't he. He was scared sh-"

Buck angrily turned to his nephew. "You hold it, boy. Don't you talk like that about your pa!"

John and Annalee were still sitting by the fire. The conversation had been loud enough for them to listen in on. Annalee - a gracious, warm, charming woman with the faint edge of a baltimore aristocrat still apparent in her travel-worn frontier-woman's countenance - hesitated, then spoke firmly to her husband. "You're gonna lose him, John. You're gonna drive him away. Tell him that you love him. He's just a little boy. He needs to know it." She looked pleadingly at her husband.

John's face grew stony. "I'll tell you what he needs to know. He needs to be tough. He needs to be tougher than I care to think about, Annalee. I don't want him to love me. I want him to survive. I want him to know-"

"There are other things you can survive on besides toughness," his wife interrupted him gently. "There's understanding, compassion and love. He needs those, too."

"You're a good woman, Annalee. A good mother. You teach him that. The rest is my duty to him. I'll have to do it the only way I know how. Good night."

Annalee nodded and turned away to hide her tears.

XXX

The next day while Buck and John did the scouting, Blue drove the wagon, sitting beside his mother on the wagon seat. His horse was tied to the tailgate. In the afternoon they finally reached the ranch they had bought. A troop of soldiers awaited them. Big John dismounted. He walked towards the officer, shaking the man's hand.

"I'm Lieutenant Ellis," the man introduced himself.

"My name is Cannon, John Cannon." Big John pointed to his companions. "My brother Buck, Mrs. Cannon and my son Blue."

Buck had dismounted as well. A war lance had caught his attention. He pulled it from the ground to examine it in detail. "Apaches," he stated. "I wonder. How come they didn't burn it down?" he added thoughtfully, looking towards the house. It was a two-storey brick building, painted in pastel yellow with an earth-brown band at the bottom.

"We ran them off before they had a chance," Ellis replied with a sardonic grin. He turned to John who was obviously the head of the family. "After you folks rest a bit, we'll escort you to Tucson."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, but this is as far as we go," John told him firmly. "I'm the new owner of Rancho Rivera."

The soldier shook his head. "You can't stay here."

"Why not?" John wanted to know.

"Our patrol is out to warn all the settlers to move out and head for Tucson."

Annalee, whom Blue had helped from the wagon seat, came over with her son.

"You soldier boys are a little late," Buck said with a serious expression. "We just buried the Ward family yesterday morning."

The officer bowed his head. "I'm sorry to hear that. That's all the more reason we should take you to Tucson. We'll be leaving in ten minutes."

"We came to settle this Arizona Territory. We're staying," Big John said with finality.

"Mr. Cannon, you don't seem to understand. We have a major Indian uprising on our hands. The Apache war chief Mangas Coloradas was tracked down and killed recently," Ellis felt compelled to explain.

"By you soldier boys, no doubt," Buck threw in frostily.

"The army is in charge to keep the peace on the frontier, sir," the officer defended his men, sounding as if he had learned it by rote.

"Now, how does the army plan to do that by following a policy of extermination?" John asked reproachfully.

Ellis shrugged. "If that's the only way."

"What if the other fella don't exterminate?" Buck asked pointedly, still leaning on the war lance.

Ellis threw Buck an offended look before he turned to his deputy. "Sergeant, get my horse." He took a deep breath and looked back to the Cannons. "Before I leave, I think there is one thing you should know. Mangas Coloradas was Cochise's blood brother, and Cochise has gone on the war path with nearly six hundred first-class warriors."

"Is that right?" Big John asked and took a step towards the officer. "Now, tell me something, Lieutenant. What does the army intend to do about it?"

"The only thing we can do. Hold the fort until we're reinforced."

"Well, with over a thousand miles of frontier for you soldier boys to cover, I'd say that would be a long time," Buck told him casually.

Ellis threw him a grim look. "That's exactly right." He turned on his heel and mounted his horse, shaking his head. Every day they came. They kept arriving, their wagons piled with mattresses, rocking chairs, with odd bits of china, with flower seeds; their faces shining with hope, with more courage than good sense. From Kansas, Missouri, New Jersey, Pennsylvania - from Lord knows where, looking for something. What did they want? All they could find here was that the sun was hotter, the flies quicker and the scorpions nastier.

John came to stand beside his brother. "Thank you, Lieutenant." He waved to the soldiers.

"Forward, march," the officer gave the command, and the troopers rode out.

Annalee and Blue watched the squad go, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Blue," Big John called to his son. "Come here." As soon as he had issued the command, he turned to his brother. "Buck, you're going to Tucson."

"Now?" Buck asked, aghast.

"Now," nodded his brother. "You'll take Blue with you."

"What am I supposed to do in Tucson?" Buck wanted to know.

"Stay sober," Big John replied. "I'm sending Blue along to make sure you do."

Buck threw the lance down. "Hey, Big John, I'm a little too old for a nurse maid, ain't I." He followed his brother to the horse.

"I want you to hire me some hands," John said. "Ones that can ride and shoot." He took a bag of coins from his saddlebag.

Buck nodded. "About how many?"

"As many as you can get. Here." John threw him the pouch. "Get guns and ammunition to last a dozen men for a month. You be back here by sun-up."

"But Tucson's thirty-five miles," Buck protested.

"Well, then you'd better get started," John told him as Buck mounted his horse.

"But that ain't much time, John," Buck tried again.

"Well, you ain't walking," his brother replied with a grin.

"Stupid joke. Get up, Rebel." Buck sullenly turned his horse and rode from the ranch.

"Blue, you take my horse," Big John continued, holding the stirrup for his son. "Blue, now, you keep an eye on him. One whiff of liquor or perfume, he's a hard man to hold down," he reminded Blue.

"Don't worry, Pa. We'll be home early," Blue promised, having no idea, however, how in the world he could keep that promise when Buck decided to have some fun.

XXX

Annalee meanwhile had gone to the house. She opened the door cautiously. The first thing she saw was an arrow stuck in the dining table. She stepped through the door and looked around. Obviously a struggle had taken place here. The furniture had been overturned. Most of it was broken or damaged beyond repair. At best, it would serve as firewood. She pulled the arrow from the table, looked at it as if it might come alive at any moment, then dropped it to the ground. She located a chair that was still serviceable except for its broken back rest, and sank down on it. Big John watched Blue gallop from the ranch to catch up with Buck, then went to his wife. Noticing her desperation, he took her in his arms.

"Oh, John." Annalee let out a sob.

John patted her on the back. "Now, now. We'll get it fixed up, Annalee," he said reassuringly.

Annalee leaned against her husband, gazing over his shoulder towards the front door. Someone came in. She flinched. Fear constricted her throat. She began to tremble. Noticing her agitation, John turned around. A Mexican stood in the doorway. He held a gun in his hand. Big John drew his revolver and cocked it. "Quién es Usted?" he asked sternly.

"They call me Vaquero. Señor-" The man fell to the ground, unconscious. Only now they saw that his left arm was covered in blood.

Vaquero soon regained consciousness. John had set up a camp bed, and Annalee had bandaged the injured arm.

"Cómo se siente?" How are you feeling? John asked.

"Mejor, señor," the man nodded.

"Agua?" John lifted Vaquero's head and held a cup of water to his lips. "Where do you come from?" he wanted to know after the man had taken a sip.

"I worked for the ranchero Señor Rivera. When the Apaches came, I escaped to the hills."

John put a hand on the man's uninjured shoulder. "All right. From now on you work for the ranch of John Cannon." After a short pause he continued, "The Apaches have driven the herd away."

"Oh, no, no, señor," Vaquero replied. "Here, you have two enemies. The Apaches and Don Sebastian Montoya to the south. He is a very, very big patrón, like a king. He claims this land. His men came and stole your cattle two days ago. You must leave here, señor. Montoya is very strong. And the Apaches are very strong. They will kill you," Vaquero told him urgently.

John and Annalee looked at each other seriously. It was yet another complication they had to cope with, somehow. Big John understood suddenly why Señor Rivera had been in such a hurry to sell his ranch.

XXX

Buck and Blue rode into Tucson. Buck was singing again. "Haha," he laughed when they arrived on the main street. "Here you are, boy. Tucson."

Blue looked around. The town needed some getting used to, in his opinion. It was supposed to be quite a sight; the saloons never closed. But at first glance it seemed small and looked unfinished. Blue quickly followed his uncle down the street. Buck was about to make his first acquaintance. He lifted his hat. "Whoa, señorita. Cómo estás? Guapa, bonita, esta noche," he called out to the girl who was wearing a brown and yellow dress and a matching hat.

"Yes, but not too late," the girl smiled at him.

Buck laughed. "You see, Blue Boy, Tucson is paradise, paradise," he enthused.

"We better get the supplies. Right, Buck?" Blue asked him cautiously.

Buck put a hand on his arm. "First things first, Blue Boy. First things first. What you need is an education. And as your uncle I is gonna provide it."

"Where're we going?" Blue asked uncertainly.

Buck shook his head. "Well, you've to know everything in advance? You don't like no surprises?"

"What about the men we are supposed to hire?" his nephew wanted to know agitatedly.

"Paradise," Buck told him. "Don't worry about it. Where we're going, we'll find plenty of them. You can see paradise, Blue Boy. You just follow your Uncle Buck."

"Pa said- We're supposed to-" Blue broke off. Buck did not listen to him any more. He had just opened the door to a saloon.

Buck flew through the barroom door and landed on the street. He sat up, shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and went back inside. His opponent was waiting for him at the door. Buck delivered a few blows to the battered face, and the man went down. The cowboys in the saloon whooped with laughter, appreciating the entertainment. Blue, a bit awed and cowed by the action, observed the hustle and bustle from the safe end of the saloon. He was standing at a corner table, looking very much like a fish out of water.

"Hey, pretty good, boy," Buck told his downed opponent. He pulled a bank note from his pocket and put it on the counter. "Get him a drink."

One of the men turned his glass upside down, pouring half a litre of beer over the sleeper. "My name is Sam Butler," he introduced himself, sticking out his hand.

"Sam, nice to meet you," Buck told him, shaking hands with him.

Sam pointed to the floor. "And this here is what's left of my kid brother Joe."

Buck stooped down. "Little Joe." He helped the man to his feet, patting him on the back. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," Joe told him fuzzily.

Sam presented his other drinking buddies. "This is Ira, Reno and Pedro."

Buck shook their hands. "Cómo estás?" he asked Pedro.

"Come on. I'll buy you a drink," Sam spoke up again.

"No, no, no. I'm buying. Uncle Buck's buying everybody," Buck announced. "Drink up, drink up." The cowboys complied eagerly.

Buck went to the girl who leaned against the pool table. She wore a yellow, low-cut dress and a hat with a green feather. She had applied a mighty load of make-up to her face. "Hello, honey," Buck greeted her.

"There's plenty of other girls," she told him and made to leave. "Why pick on me?"

Buck held her by the arm, looking at her admiringly. "But none look the way you do. You're gonna heal up a bad wound. Come on. I want you to meet someone."

"Who?" she asked suspiciously.

"A boy. A boy who ain't learned about women. He don't know about women."

"What do you mean, he don't know about women?" she demanded.

"Just what I said," Buck answered. "He don't know that most ways you're all the same. You just come with me."

Buck led her to Blue. Halfway there, a girl in a bright red dress came running towards him and hugged him. "Hey, big man," she enthused, smiling all over her face.

"Make me pretty for later, Mabel. I'll be with you in a minute," Buck told her and went on to Blue, dragging the girl in the yellow dress behind. "Come on, honey."

Grinning, Buck came to stand in front of his nephew. "Blue Boy, just what the doctor ordered. Ain't she pretty? There, she's all yours."

"Uncle Buck," Blue began in embarrassment.

"What's the matter?"

"Let's get out of here," Blue begged.

"Are you kidding? It's just beginning to get interesting." Buck's voice got sharper. "Now, you just sit down, boy, have a drink." He pushed Blue down on a chair, then took the girl by the arm. "And honey, you sit-"

Blue jumped up and fled the saloon.

"Blue." Buck looked after him in surprise and tore his hair. "Blue!"

"I don't think your friend likes me," the girl said, sounding offended.

"Like you," Buck countered. "How could he? He doesn't even know you. Well, tell you what we gonna do. Now, you take-" he started to count the bank notes but soon lost patience and handed her the whole wad. "You take all of it. You go after him and bring him back," he ordered.

She looked at him in annoyance.

"Bring him back, let him buy you a drink," Buck said firmly. "You do let men buy you a drink, don't you?"

"Yeah." She took the money sullenly. "Men buy me drinks." She turned on her heel and walked out.

Satisfied, Buck watched her go, then looked around for the other girl, spreading his arms. "Mabel, my love, wipe my face." She hugged him, and Buck kissed her.

The other girl went to Blue who had sat down on the bench in front of the saloon.

"Hey, why don't you buy me a drink?" she asked. "I'd be insulted if you don't."

"But I cannot. My father-" Blue began in embarrassment.

"The name's Jo. What's yours?" she interrupted his ramblings.

"Blue." He looked straight ahead as he answered.

"Blue?" she asked.

"Yes, Blue," he repeated, feeling a little annoyed. By now he should have got used to the amusement he got when he told his name. But there was no helping it. He always felt embarrassed.

"How did you ever get a name like Blue?" Jo wanted to know.

"It's a long story, you don't want to hear it," Blue said curtly, thinking of Sarah and trying to hide his sadness.

The girl looked towards the saloon. "I'm in no hurry." She sat down on the bench. "Those wide-eyed mavericks in there all look like they're coming off the range."

Her face suddenly lit up. "There," she said. "You smiled."

"You're real nice, Miss Jo," Blue said, blushing a little.

Jo looked down. "You don't know me very well."

"Yes, I do. I mean I know people like you," Blue stuttered and fell silent.

"You're pretty nice yourself, Blue," Jo answered him kindly. Blue looked at her questioningly.

"Yes, honestly," she told him. "You're sensitive. I never knew a guy like you. You hurt easily, don't you?"

Blue shrugged. "I don't know."

Jo stood up and came to him. "Blue, there's a room inside. We can have a few drinks if you like."

Blue squirmed. "No, that's not necessary, ma'am. It's just fine right here."

She put her hand on his chest. "Don't you like me, Blue?"

"I like you."

"There's nothing to be afraid of. I promise."

"It' s not that, ma'am."

"What is it?" Jo asked blankly.

"I-" Blue cleared his throat. "I just can't explain it."

She looked at him in disappointment. "I understand. Maybe I'm not good enough for you?"

Blue shook his head. "It's not that. I respect you."

The girl looked at Blue in disbelief, then ran past him into the saloon. "Miss Jo," Blue called after her in puzzlement, feeling at a loss of what he had done wrong.

"Whoa, honey." Reno stopped her, hugging her. "You're the prettiest thing I've seen in a long time."

Jo struggled. "Let me go!"

Reno kissed her. Ira pushed him away. "Let me show you how to do that." He kissed her as well. "Come on, baby."

"Let go of me, please," Jo pleaded.

Blue came through the door, having heard the commotion. He tore Ira away from her. "Get your hands off her!" he shouted indignantly.

"Lookie here, the fighting kid himself," Ira mocked him.

"Blue." Jo ran to him. "Please, get out of here."

"There's no reason for you to be treated like this," Blue began hotly.

"Please. Can't you see it's just a game for them?" Jo cried.

Blue pushed her behind him. "Please, just get out of the way."

"Wanna have some fun, don't you, kid?" Ira spoke up.

Sam and Joe, who were standing at the bar with their glasses, became aware of the impending fun and turned their heads towards the brawlers.

"Okay, sonny boy, you're wearing a gun. Let's see you use it," Ira suggested.

Blue looked down on his revolver. "How many do I have to take?" he asked timidly.

Ira turned laughingly to Reno who was standing beside him. "Just me," he said, turning back to Blue.

Blue took up position in front of a pillar, almost trembling with anxiety. A shot rang out. Blue winced. The others turned around just as startled. Buck stood in the doorway to the adjacent room. His revolver was still smoking.

"Now, you stay out of this," Ira demanded.

"Hold on." Sam put a restraining hand on Pedro's shoulder, pushing him back down on his chair. Reno, after a quick glance from Sam, put his revolver back in his holster.

"What's on you mind, Buck?" Sam wanted to know, walking towards him.

Buck rubbed his chin and came a little closer. "Well, Sam, I'll tell you. I think it be just fine to have a little fun. Just as long nobody gets hurt. I mean, not hurt too bad. Give me the gun, Ira." Buck held out his left hand.

"Give him the gun, Ira," Sam concurred when the man hesitated.

Ira reluctantly handed his revolver over.

"Thank you, Ira boy." Buck turned to the spokesman of the group. "Now, Sam, just one more thing. We want this to be a fair fight, ain't that right?" Buck took the gun from Blue's holster and tossed it to Sam.

"Yeah, right, Buck," Sam said with satisfaction. "I'll tell you what. The loser buys the drinks."

"Good idea, Sam," Buck grinned. He turned to Blue. "Now, Blue Boy, you remember everything your uncle Buck taught you." Blue nodded.

"Now, easy does it." Buck patted his nephew's cheek, then went with the others to the bar. "All right, Sam, we'll watch. Move over, honey," he told Jo who stood anxiously at the counter.

Smiling, Ira turned to his friends who cheered him on, then opened the fight. Blue tried to defend himself, but Ira effortlessly broke through his cover. One blow after another rained down on Blue. Before long, Ira grabbed Blue and sent him flying through the saloon door. "Come on, sonny boy. We're going for a ride." Buck covered his eyes in despair.

Blue stood up woozily. He stormed back in, surprising Ira, who was already savouring his victory, with an uppercut. This blow went to Blue, but Ira dodged his next one. Blue flew over the pool table and slid under the counter. Cheering, the cowboys leaned over the counter to follow the action. Buck poured whisky down on Blue to make him wake up. His nephew eventually crawled out from under the bar and closed in on Ira. He stopped, however, at a safe distance to see what his opponent would be doing.

"Come on, he is over there," Buck told him cheerfully. Blue gathered his courage, ran headlong towards Ira and flew over another table. He had some trouble getting back on his feet. Ira grinningly leaned down to him. Blue let his fist connect with Ira's chin. The man staggered back.

"Oh, gosh, that was a good right hook," someone commented approvingly.

"Yes, he finally woke up," Pedro concurred.

Blue took Ira in a headlock. Buck had taught him that move but had cautioned him to use it only when his opponent was not paying attention or already exhausted from the fight. Blue estimated that the time was right for it.

Ira signalled that he would give up. "Enough. I've had enough," he wheezed, watching the stars dancing merrily in front of his eyes.

Sam turned to Buck. "Well, looks like the drinks are on us."

Buck raised his glass. "Sam, here's to your boy."

"Well, here's to your boy, Buck," Sam replied.

"It was a fair fight," they said in unison, laughingly clinking their glasses.

"Blue Boy, I'm proud of you." Buck went to his nephew and fed him some whisky which Blue spat out immediately. Buck helped Ira to his feet, too, and led them both to the bar. "Come here, Ira. Everyboy drink up!"

"Say, where are you from, anyway?" Buck asked the cowboys a few hours later. They had made themselves comfortable at a table, talking about all and sundry. Buck had bought a few rounds, then the others had followed his example.

Ira drunkenly stuck out his hand. "Ira Bean," he introduced himself formally. "I'm from around here."

Reno had rustled up a guitar from somewhere and was singing his favourite song "Colorado Trail". "I'm from Colorado, but I set out to see the world, and now I have no money to return. Besides, I like it here somehow," he said in a melancholy tone.

"I am from a Mexican village a day's ride from Nogales," Pedro said and fell asleep at the table. Or at least pretended to. Buck was not sure. He eyed the man carefully. His clothes were a mix of Mexican and American elements, just like his language. He was very tall for a Mexican, but exceptionally thin for a North American.

"Pedro is all right. The five of us have been together for a while now," Sam explained in a slurred voice. "We work for the ranchers in the area. They always look for help when they round up their herds or drive cattle to the market. But ever since Cochise went on the warpath, a decent job is hard to come by. We are just the beginning. There will soon be a lot more of us out of work, I guess," he sighed.

XXX

Annalee and John had cleaned the house as best they could and got in their furniture. The next morning John hung a wind chime on the porch. Annalee smiled up at him. John hugged her. Suddenly they heard singing - pretty drunken singing. It came from a buckboard that approached the ranch from the direction of Tucson. A couple of horses accompanied the wagon. Big John, having recognised Buck's voice, decided to take a closer look. Sometimes he believed that his brother just sang so that his friends would not shoot at him. Obviously not too bad a survival strategy, he thought.

Buck stopped the wagon in the courtyard beside his brother. "Now, folks, you shut your mouth," he told his fellow travellers.

John walked along the buckboard. Pedro and Reno half lay on the planks, having been hard pressed to find some space between the goods Buck had bought. Pedro thought it polite to greet his new employer by offering John his hip flask. "Here, sir, a welcome drink."

John went back to the wagon seat and looked at his brother with narrowed eyes. Buck introduced him to the newly-acquired ranch hands. "Hi, John. Boys, I want you to meet your new boss, the best man you'll ever meet, my brother John Cannon." He patted John's arm. "I got a great crew, John, I tell ya."

And probably had to ply them with whisky to make them agree, John thought. He could only hope that they worked as hard as they drank. But it was better than nothing, at least for the moment. Once they had settled in, he would look for some reliable men himself.

Buck pointed to the man who sat on the wagon seat beside him. "I want you to meet a friend of mine, a great man, a gentleman-" Buck started to sweat. The name, the name. He had had it a second ago. "Sam Butler," he remembered at last and grinned in relief. "Sam, this is my brother." Buck helped the man get up. "Shake hands with him. Sam, meet a fine man, my brother John," he repeated as the cowpoke faced John, swaying like a leaf in the wind.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cannon," Sam mumbled, taking the broom handle that was sticking up beside him for the hand he was supposed to shake. Unfortunately, he saw it twice. Wondering why his new boss held out both hands to him, he chose one of them. He realised it had been the wrong one when he fell.

"Where are you going? Hello?" Buck watched him hit the ground, shaking his head. "He must feel a little queasy, John. But Sam, he's a good man, John, a good man." Buck carefully stepped down from the wagon. "They're all good men. That other guy is Reno," he began to introduce the rest.

"Howdy," Reno greeted John casually.

"John, this is my friend Pedro." Buck took the flask, taking a generous drink. "Pedro's a good man, too, John, when he is sober. Yeah, that happens sometimes," he assured his brother, bobbing his head several times. Then he walked on to the two men who had managed to climb their horses and ride.

"You remember Sam?" Buck continued. "This is his brother Little Joe." Joe started to slide off his horse. Buck pushed him back up so that he would not share Sam's fate and meet the ground instead of his employer. "And this over here - stay up there-" Buck pushed Joe back again, then continued, "this is Ira. Ain't he pretty? Blue done that. Blue really done that. That's Ira Bean," Buck finished. "They's all good men, John. They're gonna stick with us."

Big John grabbed Blue by the hair and lifted his son's head over the sideplanks.

"Hi, Pa," Blue greeted him, looking decidedly the worse for wear.

"What happened to him?" Big John demanded stonily.

"Him?" Buck asked blankly. Then it dawned on him. "Oh, Blue. That's what Ira- That's what I done told ya, he busted him, John. He busted him. He was wonderful. You'd be proud of him." Buck beamed all over his weather-beaten face. "I mean real proud of him," he emphasised.

"Real proud," his brother said doubtfully. "We'll see about that." He turned to the men. "Now, your pay is thirty a month and chuck. I'll brook no gambling and no drinking, and no disorderly conduct." Pedro looked sadly at his hip flask.

"Out here, my word is the law. I expect it to be obeyed," John continued. He looked at Buck who gave a precautionary salute. "I want these men to ride in an hour. We have a herd to find."

"Yes, sir," Buck answered, looking a bit groggy.

Big John pointed towards his son. "You throw him in the watering trough."

Buck nodded. John turned around and left. "Yes, sir, Big John. Yes, sir," Buck mumbled behind his brother's back, hurriedly taking a sip from Pedro's flask.

"Your brother, he's a tough man," Pedro smiled.

"Amigo, they don't come no tougher," Buck laughed. He leaned over Blue, patting his nephew's cheek. "Hey, Blue, Blue Boy, wake up. Oh, beautiful."

Blue looked at him blearily. "I don't feel so good, Buck."

Pedro and Reno took Blue by the arms and helped Buck get his nephew off the wagon. "Here we go," Buck gasped.

The moment their feet touched the earth, the ground must have decided to shake, probably with laughter. They fell down in a heap. Blue valiantly but unsuccessfully tried to get back up.

"Come on, boys. Give me a hand with him," Buck asked Reno and Pedro. After a few false starts they finally made it to their feet and stumbled over to the water trough. They stuck their heads in, trying to sober up. Buck was vigorously dunking Blue's head when Annalee came to them.

"How do you feel, Billy Blue?" she asked solicitously.

"He'll be fine, Annalee. You just run along, ma'am. He'll be just fine," Buck assured her, continuing to dunk Blue's head in the water.

Contrary to John's expectation, the men were out and about an hour later, looking for the herd. Big John was following more sedately with Blue and Sam.

After another hour Buck galloped back to his brother. "Big John, I just found a trail. Two miles down those hills. Somebody's driving a herd south."

"Indian?" Blue asked, lisping heavily. His face still looked battered. His upper lip was swollen, one cheek had a black spot that seemed to get bigger by the hour, and his eyes did not open all the way.

"Nope," Buck answered. "Whoever it is put shoes on the horses' feet."

"How many are they?" John asked.

"Oh, I figure ten or twelve, I'd say."

"Probably that Montoya bunch," Sam spoke up. "Thye've been raiding worse than Apaches."

"How does he do it?" John mused. "How does he get along with the Apache?"

"Old Montoya is a tough hombre," Sam explained. "He's got his own private army. Even Cochise is afraid of him."

"Let's have a look at them," John decided. He followed Buck to the tracks.

"Son." Sam turned to Blue. "If they don't kill him someday, your old man's gonna own this country." He watched the Cannon brothers for a moment before he spurred his horse on and rode after them.

They came to an overhang from which they could see their herd and the men who drove it. "They ain't in any hurry," Blue noted with some surprise.

"Well, they don't expect to be followed," his father said. "How many do you count, Buck?"

"Ten."

"Yeah, that's what I see," John nodded.

"Come on, let's go get them," Blue said, starting for his horse.

His father held him back. "No. Don't you jump till I tell you, boy. You hear that?" Blue made an indignant face.

"Not good, Blue Boy, out in the open country like that," Buck intervened. "Besides, it might spook the cattle."

"Yeah. They'll be making camp when it gets dark. We'll talk to them then," John decided and went to his horse. Blue looked at his uncle in puzzlement. Buck put a hand on his nephew's arm and laughed. The boy still had a lot to learn.

XXX

The Mexicans were sitting by the campfire, having supper. Big John, rifle in hand, approached them, his face tight.

"Muchachos, we have a visitor, look," one of the vaqueros spoke up when he finally noticed Big John.

The spokesman for the group stood up. "Señor, what can I do for you?"

"Podría usted darme alguna información?" Big John asked.

"Sí, mucho gusto."

"Habla usted inglés?"

The spokesman laughed. "Un poco. A little." He indicated his limited knowledge with his thumb and forefinger.

"You understand English?" John repeated his question in his own language.

"Oh, sí, señor. What can I do for you?"

John raised his rifle. "Tell your men to drop their weapons. You're surrounded."

The ranch hands confirmed his words by emerging from the shadows, raising their rifles as well.

"You heard him," Pedro addressed Montoya's bunch in Spanish. "Don't be fools. Drop your guns."

Buck lifted his hat and went to the fire. "Cómo estás, amigo?" he asked one of the vaqueros politely, then turned to Pedro who came to stand beside him. "Pedro, frijoles." He took the spoon from the pot on the fire and tasted the meal.

The spokesman turned to John. "Señor, what do you want with me? I have no money."

"You have my cattle," John told him grimly.

"No, there is a mistake," the spokesman began agitatedly. "These cattle here belong to my patrón, Don Sebastian Montoya."

"They belong to me," Big John replied. "I'm taking them back."

The spokesman looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Señor, you make a joke."

"You tell your patrón this ranch belongs to John Cannon. If I find one of his riders on my vega again, I'll hang him. Now tell your men to drop their weapons."

"Do what he says," Pedro spoke up, poking his rifle in the spokesman's belly for emphasis. "He is serious, Señor Gordito."

"Throw your weapons on the ground," the spokesman told his men. He turned furiously to Big John. "Señor, you have just signed your death warrant, this I promise you."

"Start walking," Big John called to him icily, and the Mexicans left the camp.

Buck sat down by the fire. "Frijoles me gusta mucho, Pedro."

The others covered Montoya's people with their guns until they had vanished in the dark.

"Mr. Cannon, that Mexican meant what he said. Old Don Sebastian will have your hide if he can get it," Sam warned his boss.

"It's been tried before," John answered, cool as you please. Sam smiled a little and went to the fire. He had to admire his boss's courage. Working for John Cannon should prove to be very satisfactory.

XXX

The next day the ranch hands drove the herd back to their own pastures. Annalee, accompanied by Vaquero, rode to meet them. "Hello, Annalee," her husband greeted her.

"John," she answered, looking past him to the cattle.

"Well, it's only two hundred head," John said.

"It's a start, John. Finally, it's a start," his wife smiled at him. She looked around dreamily and took a deep breath. "Oh, John, this is such lovely country. It should have a name."

"You name it," her husband urged her.

Annalee looked at the area more closely. "What is that bush over there?" she wanted to know, pointing at the plant.

"That's chaparral. Every way you see for a thousand miles is chaparral country," John told her.

"That's it. Chaparral," his wife agreed enthusiastically. She raised her hand. "I christen thee the High Chaparral, the greatest cattle ranch in the country - in the world," she amended with a laugh.

Once they had found a name for the ranch, Buck also got an idea for the branding iron. He went to the smithy and shaped it himself. A capital H whose second bar fused with a capital C. He showed it to Big John.

"Admittedly, it doesn't have much artistic value, but it's practical," Buck told his brother. "It's sturdy enough that it will be able to stand the fire for years."

"And it can be recognised from some distance," his brother added with a nod. Buck solemnly handed his nephew their new branding iron.

Blue put it to practice right the next day. Reno had thrown the rope around the neck of a calf. Blue tied its legs together and released the lasso so that Reno could catch the next animal. Then he got the branding iron from the fire and applied it to the calf's hide.

Big John rode up to him. "Brand him, boy. Don't barbeque him," he told his son sternly before he rode on. Blue angrily threw down the iron and released the calf. In his father's eyes he never got anything right.

Big John rode over his ranch to see how the rest of the team was doing. He also wanted to see whether there were a few animals roaming the area that the Montoya bunch had overlooked. Suddenly he heard bleating noises and rode down to the river. A calf had caught its hind leg in a snare. John dismounted. "Well, young fella, you got yourself in a fix. What's going on?" he asked in surprise.

A shot rang out behind him. John whirled around, his revolver at the ready. He saw an Apache fall from the rock directly above him. A white man came down from the adjacent rock. A tall Mexican, about thirty years old with friendly, vivid eyes. But he looked pretty ragged. He wore a dirty shirt, a patched vest, a big straw sombrero on his back and was sporting a three-day beard. He let the empty cartridge fall from his rifle. Smoke rose up. John looked at him in relief, uncocking his revolver.

"Hello, señor. The gun will not be necessary. He is dead," the man told him.

"Yes, that's true," John confirmed after a closer look. "Where did you come from?" he asked.

The Mexican grinned. "I was waiting over there. I saw him set the trap. Sooner or later I knew someone would come along and fall into it, and here you are," he laughed.

John laughed, too.

"Hands high," the Mexican told him conversationally.

"Huh?" Big John did a double take, wondering when the other had reloaded his gun.

"If you will," the man asked quietly.

John complied with the polite request. "Now, you're not giving me a chance to say thanks," he remarked in disappointment.

"Better than that. I'm going to take your horse," the other told him.

"What happened to yours?"

The Mexican nodded towards the dead Apache. "His friends got it ten or twelve miles back. It did not matter," he assured Big John who threw him a worried look. "It was not much of a horse. I stole it, anyway." He smiled and surveyed John's dapple gray horse. "Andale, that one looks pretty good."

"Yes. Yes, he is," John said, slowly lowering his hands.

"Keep your hands high, señor. Higher," the Mexican ordered immediately.

John did not move again.

The man took the revolver from Big John's gunbelt and went to the horse.

"You going anywhere special?" John wanted to know.

"Why?" the Mexican asked, a touch of amusement colouring his voice.

"I've got a job for you. If you want it."

"A- a job for me?" The man burst out laughing. "No, thank you. I, ah - cómo se dice? - I don't like to work. Besides, I have to go to Nogales. I have relatives there. I have this urgent need to see my aging father and my old maid sister." He jerked his head towards the river. "Would you please go down over there now?" John wordlessly did him this favour as well.

"Gracias," the Mexican thanked him and mounted. "Gracias for your horse. I am sorry. I will not be able to return it, but he will get good care in Nogales. Until I see you again. Hasta la vista."

"That's right," John said with a grin, the hint of a warning in his eyes. "You haven't seen the last of me, my friend."

"You will find your gun down the trail," the other remarked. "Hasta luego. Vamonos, caballito." He turned the horse and rode away. John watched him go. He did not quite know whether to laugh or explode with rage.

"So he stole your horse." Buck laughed his head off at dinner when John came out with the story. The fact that his horse was gone had been impossible to hide. "Big John without a horse. By God, John, you're getting old," Buck teased his brother.

"I'd have given him the horse if he'd asked for it," the rancher said sullenly.

"Ask. Why, heck, John boy, they'd think it dishonourable if they didn't steal a horse." Buck laughed again. "That's a good one on you, I swear."

"Buck, did he say he was being chased by Apaches?" Blue asked.

"That's what he said," John confirmed. Annalee came in with a platter of meat. She offered it to Buck who took a slice.

"Well that means we're all-" Blue began, but John shushed him.

"You can finish, Blue," Annalee told her son. "I know what it means." She offered the platter to her husband.

John took a slice as well. "Now, there's no use getting alarmed until we have to," he said calmly.

"That's right," Buck agreed with him, his mouth full. "Could be just a little raiding party trying to get at the herd."

"We better go out tonight. Buck, you and me have a look around," Big John decided.

"What about me?" Blue asked.

His father looked up briefly before turning back to his meal. "No. You stay here."

"What? Why can't I go?" Blue stuttered. "Buck! I can handle myself in a fight, right, eh?"

"You betcha, boy, you betcha," his uncle agreed.

"Listen, Pa, if there's a fight, I don't want to miss it," Blue exclaimed, thrusting his fist into the air.

"You'll have plenty of chances to fight when the time comes," his father said grimly. Blue stared resignedly down on his plate.

"Let him come along, John," Buck put in. "It'll do him good. He might learn something." John shook his head.

Annalee turned to her husband. "I think he should go."

John looked up, sullenly chewing his steak. They had apparently conspired against him in this matter. "All right," he relented. "We'll leave after supper."

Buck winked at his nephew. Blue threw his arms in the air, letting out a whoop of joy. His parents regarded him with shaking heads, and Blue instantly sobered.

John opened the door to the bedroom. "Annalee, we're leaving now."

His wife had just drawn the curtains. Hairbrush in her hand, she turned to her husband. "We'll be back early," John told her and made to leave the room.

Annalee called him back. "John, what's the matter?" she asked.

Big John, one hand on the doorknob, stepped into the room. "Nothing," he replied a little harsher than he had intended.

Annalee came to him. "John, you're not upset because Billy's going with you?"

"No. No, that's not what's bothering me." He hesitated.

"Then what is it?" prodded his wife.

"Well, I've been thinking maybe this whole thing is a foolish idea. Maybe I shouldn't have dragged you out here to Arizona. Annalee, you've gotta go. It's not safe here any more."

Annalee took a deep breath and walked to the mirror. "I knew that before I came here," she said bravely.

"There was more of a chance to live in peace with the Apache, but it's changed. Now the army and Cochise are at war. They murdered his blood brother; Cochise wants revenge."

Annalee considered what the best course of action would be. True, she was afraid, but she was dead set against leaving her husband's side. "I couldn't leave you and Billy Blue, you know that," she finally said.

John took her in his arms. "I don't want anything to happen to you, Annalee."

"John, I know about your dream to bring peace and understanding to this savage battleground. I love you for the dream and the man you are. You can't expect me to be any less a woman than you are a man." She leaned against him.

John hugged her, heaving a sigh. She would be a hard woman to replace. "There are so many things I haven't said to you in a long time. Things a man should say to a woman."

Annalee looked up at him. "I've known you've loved me for years."

"I always will," John said and kissed her before he left.

XXX

Vaquero came to Ira who stood guard outside the house while John rode with Buck and Blue over the ranch. "Sure glad I'm not out there Apache hunting tonight," Ira told him. In this pitch-blackness the ranch looked very different. "That wind gives me the creeps."

Vaquero nodded slowly. "If you are the hunter, the night and the wind are your friends if you know how to use them, señor."

Ira glanced at him, then looked back over the ranch. "Well, just the same I'd like to be in a nice, safe place where there is some light. The misses all right?"

Vaquero nodded. "Sí. She retired."

"Well, I got some rounds to make. Nos vemos, Vaquero," Ira said and disappeared into the darkness.

Annalee was sitting in bed, knitting, making every effort to distract herself from her fear. At the noise, she sat up straight in her bed. It had sounded like the crying of a child. She hesitantly took her needlework up again, but the sound returned, louder this time. She pulled on her bathrobe and stepped onto the porch. The windchime made faint clinking noises. During the day she had liked its sound. But now, in the dark, it chased a shiver down her spine. Vaquero saw her standing at the door and walked over to her. "Señora!"

Wincing, Annalee turned around. "Vaquero, you startled me," she gasped.

"It is not good to leave the house, señora," Vaquero told her worriedly and went to the door.

Annalee rushed after him. "But Vaquero, I heard something like a child calling. It cried for its mother."

"There are many strange things in the desert at night, señora," Vaquero said. "A wolf, a cat. I myself have heard a cat scream with the voice of a woman."

"I know," Annalee said thoughtfully. "But when we first came here, there was a family killed by Apaches, and the children were taken by the warriors." She hesitated. "Could it be one of the Ward children who escaped?"

Vaquero shook his head. "Oh no, señora. They are Apache now. Please, go inside." He opened the door for her.

"Probably it was just my imagination," Annalee said uncertainly.

"Good night, señora," Vaquero replied.

"Good night, Vaquero." Annalee stepped into the house and closed the creaking door. Suddenly her new home seemed hostile. The way to the stairs seemed endless. She gathered her courage, rushed to the stairs and almost ran to the bedroom. There she heard the child's voice again. She resolutely pulled the curtain back, opened the window and leaned out.

Vaquero came in. "Señora," he called excitedly. "Señora Cannon, I heard it. I heard the child." He stood in the open doorway. When no answer came, he walked hesitantly into the bedroom and saw Annalee lean out of the window. "Señora?" Vaquero asked softly.

Annalee turned to him. An arrow was sticking in her chest.

"Madra de dios, señora," Vaquero whispered, horrified. He caught her as she fell. He could do nothing but lay her on her bed and stay with her until her husband came back home.

XXX

The crew of the High Chaparral had gathered at the open grave. Buck in his black clothes had taken on the role of the minister and read aloud from the Bible. "Let not your heart be troubled. In my father's house are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you, for you, Annalee. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you. Amen."

Buck stood at the head of the grave; the ranch hands stood at a respectful distance behind him. John and Blue stood on the long side of the grave. Buck had hardly uttered the last word when Big John walked away from them. His son came after him, but John could not bring himself to find the right words for him. He wanted to be alone with his grief. He walked on towards the gate. Blue lowered his head and walked in the opposite direction. Buck looked from his brother to his nephew, not knowing to whom he should go, unsure if his offer of support would be welcome. He stayed where he was.

After a while Big John pulled himself together and organised the barricading of the ranch. "Pack 'em up tight. Fill all the gaps," he told the ranch hands who built the barricades. "The Apache will be here before we know it."

Buck came with the wagon from Tucson. "Did you get 'em?" his brother asked tightly.

"Sure did, Big John. Amigos, ven aquí," Buck called out to the ranch hands.

"Good." John turned to his men. "Come on, hurry it up." Vaquero relayed the order.

Buck unpacked the gifts. "Sam, you wanna see a beautiful, pretty thing?" He threw the foreman a gun. "Winchester 44, all weight and balance," he explained.

Sam examined it. "That's some gun," he said in awe.

"Reno," Buck called out and threw him a rifle as well.

"How many did you get?" Big John wanted to know.

"A half dozen, John. There ya go, Little Joe," Buck said, handing one of the Winchesters to Sam's brother.

"Amigo, amigo." Pedro approached him from the gate, eagerly waving his arms.

"Pedro, you shoot straight," Buck admonished him. "You aim, and wheee, off she goes."

They were examining the rifles when they heard hoofbeats. A man who had difficulty staying in the saddle approached the ranch. Just before he reached the gate, he fell off his horse. John squinted at him. "That's Hank," he announced. They ran to him. "Easy now," Big John said while Buck examined the arm wound.

"That bullet's got to come out, Big John," Buck told him seriously.

"What happened?" John wanted to know.

"Montoya's men," Hank gasped. "They opened up on us."

"Vaquero, get him in the house," John ordered. Ira and Joe came to help.

"All right, Big John," Buck said finally, getting up and cleaning his knife.

John went to his foreman. "Sam," he said grimly. "Saddle mine and Buck's horse, will ya. Get us enough grub to last us three days."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Cannon."

"Big John, where're we going?" Buck asked worriedly.

"We're gonna go see this Don Sebastian Montoya."

"Montoya? What for?" Buck wanted to know.

"We can fight the Apache, and we can fight Montoya. But we can't fight them both at the same time," Big John told him.

Buck did not argue. He knew his brother was right, although John's decision came at an especially inopportune moment. The Apaches could attack any day.


End file.
